Sunday, 23 February 2014

We Have Lift Off!

One of the nice things we did over half term was to visit family in Dorset. Lunch outside on the Cobb at Lyme Regis was a real treat - who'd have thought in this wettest of wet winters that we might do that in February...

But the weather turned again and for the following day in Weymouth, Hearth-Father chose to worship at the 'cathedral of cider'. This was an airy rustic restaurant with only pizza and cider on the menu. Everyone was happy! But it was up on the third floor and had a lift to access. Once the children were finished eating they dashed off to play.

Shortly afterwards Gilby came running back into the room, shaking, purple-lipped and barely able to speak.

"Eddie's gone!" he sobbed. It took another moment to work our what had happened. "In the LIFT!" he wailed. It was absolutely the end of the world, and must have seemed as if his little baby brother had been swallowed up. After all, lifts can go anywhere, if you read Roald Dahl.

I ran to look and could just about make out a tiny voice shouting 'Mummy...'.

Thankfully the lift hadn't even moved from that floor, and the doors just opened up to reveal the miscreant, who needed a little cuddle but was otherwise unharmed.

It was touching that it was his big brother who was more upset.  Less so that a few hours later they were happily pummeling each other once more over whose turn it was to play with a toy.

Currently Reading: Boring research methodology books.

Saturday, 22 February 2014

Sunshine After the Rain

Today the sun shines brilliantly. What a change from the dreary wet. And the chickens began laying eggs again. Is the worst over?

Eddie thinks that he sees a rainbow in every sky. Mostly this is just wishful thinking. "Mummy, I see a rainbow up the sky!" He points up, usually, at nothing but cloud; though I did take this photo from the classroom window the other day.

Noses seem to have been running since Christmas. And Gilby tells me that he has a very bad cough. When he coughs hard, apparently, he can taste 'sneeze' in his mouth. Ah, yes. That is quite a bad cough. I chose not to introduce him to the word 'phlegm'. Such an ugly word. Much prefer a good mouth-sneeze myself.

Currently reading: Bloody Foreigners by Robert Winder

Monday, 17 February 2014

Guerilla Littering

No, it's not quite what it sounds like. Though perhaps, on reflection, it's worse.

Gertie finally moved into her own room after Christmas. Her younger brother's fear of the dark and general inability to sleep meant that although she had her own space (beautifully furnished and decorated in my opinion, but what does a mother know?) she had to spend night times sleeping in the top bunk of her brother's room so that Gilby didn't feel scared. I blogged at length about that sleepless period, and this was the happy solution we came up with: big sis to the rescue.

It works even better now, though, because since Christmas, Gilby has shared a bedroom with his baby brother; and he can be the older, protective one (even though it is he really who still wants company at night). And so, Gertie gets her room. She very much enjoys the peace and quiet, and we have gone back to me reading her a 'grown-up' book: Black Beauty, at the moment.

The trouble is that she doesn't seem to have inherited any sense of organisation or tidiness. This is probably a blessing, since I think for me it is a curse. But her bedroom is always, without exception, the messiest room in the house.

She wasn't happy with the decor and wanted wallpaper rather than the expensive shade of not-quite-white that we had chosen. The lightbulb moment: we do a deal. If she can keep her room tidy for a whole month - and we picked February because it is the shortest - then she can choose her wallpaper, and Daddy can hang it.

Ok, so in fairness to Daddy, I didn't mention that last part to him whilst I was sealing the deal. In fact, I just told him about it today. It is day 17 of the month, and her bedroom is spotless. Could feature in a beautiful homes magazine, in fact. And Daddy is panicking. He tells me it has been a while since he hung wallpaper. Knowing him as I do, I interpret this as a euphemism for, 'I have never hung wallpaper before and I am rather disturbed by the thought of it.' His answer: guerilla littering. He plans to go in there and mess it up for her, in an attempt to stave off the task. Initially I thought it was a little unfair, but hey, it's only what the little people do to us on a daily basis...

Currently reading: The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern